My husband didn’t want me to adopt a dog. “Pets are for people with brain issues!” I rescued one from a shelter anyway. 2 weeks ago, I came home a bit early and found my husband on the hallway floor, pale and groaning, with a cut across his forehead. I screamed. He grabbed my arm, “Woman, listen to me now. Your dog hasn’t left me for 40 minutes. Don’t you dare shut him in the other room.”
Biscuit was lying across his chest with his whole face in my husband’s neck. My husband had fallen off the step stool while changing the hallway bulb and cracked his head on the radiator. His phone was on the kitchen counter, too far to crawl to. Every time he started to drift off, the dog barked right in his face and licked his ears. “He’s been yelling at me like my mother,” he said.
I called 911. The ER doctor said a knock like that can make you sleepy in a bad way, and that staying awake those forty minutes mattered. He got stitches and a concussion and was home by morning. The first thing he did walking in was check Biscuit’s water bowl. By Friday there was an $89 orthopedic dog bed on his side of our bedroom. I said I guess he was a person with brain issues now. “Don’t push it,” he said, and scratched Biscuit behind the ears.
